by Nancy Mehl
“Oh my,” I said, tears once again filling my eyes. I’d need massive amounts of water to replace all I’d lost that night. I even felt a little dehydrated. “Sam, look.”
In the painting, a man and woman stood in the middle of an orchard. Although you couldn’t see their faces, it was clear the couple was Sam and me. We were surrounded by beautiful trees, full of ripened fruit. A golden light from above bathed us in a soft radiance. My head was on Sam’s shoulder, and his strong arm circled my waist. Even the ground beneath us glowed. It reminded me of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. Written at the bottom of the canvas were these words: And God Almighty bless thee, and make thee fruitful.
“It’s—it’s incredible,” I said, my voice catching from the emotion that overtook me. “Abel, tell her this picture will be have an honored place in our home forever.”
“I will.” The big pastor smiled. “I thought you’d like it. We gave Hannah permission to paint again, and this is what she chose to do. Her mother and I have agreed that she has been given a gift from God that must be used for His kingdom. When you’re ready, we’d like you to start Hannah’s lessons again.”
Sam stuck his hand out to Abel who grabbed it. “It’s an awesome gift,” he said after clearing his throat. “Please tell Hannah how precious she is to us.”
Abel shook Sam’s hand with vigor. “Why, Sam. She already knows that.” He smiled at both of us and left the room. Sam and I remained, staring at the painting. The style made me think of Thomas Kinkade. The scene absolutely glowed with almost unearthly light. It took everything I had to tear my gaze away.
“We’ve got to find a wonderful place for this,” I said to Sam. He started to answer me when Sweetie’s voice interrupted.
“Gracie? Sam? Where are you two?”
Sam put the painting on the coffee table. “We’re in the living room, Sweetie,” he called loudly.
“Well, get into the kitchen. Pat has something to talk to us about.”
Sam and I looked at each other. “Wonder what this is about?” he said.
“One way to find out.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the hallway.
When we reached the kitchen, we found everyone gathered around the table except for Sweetie who was rinsing dishes at the sink.
“Please, sit down,” Pat said in a solemn tone. The expression on his face was one I’d seen before, and every time it had preceded bad news. But that couldn’t happen tonight. Hannah was home, C.J. was locked up. What could he possibly say that could make a dent in this perfect evening?
“Sweetie, I need you to sit down, too.”
Sweetie started to argue with him, but she was trying hard to turn over a new leaf with Pat, so she put her dish towel down and came over to the table. She plopped down next to my mother. Sweetie was quiet, but her frown expressed her irritation. She couldn’t abide a dirty kitchen.
All eyes were fixed on Pat, who cleared his throat and rubbed his hands together before finally speaking. “Right before dinner, I got a call from a detective friend in Colorado.” He hesitated again.
“Well for cryin’ out loud, Pat, spit it out!” Sweetie declared. “Ain’t nothin’ you can’t say. We’re family now, remember?”
He nodded. “Yes, I know. And this is family business. That’s why I waited until everyone else left.”
“What is it, Pat?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, I don’t believe anyone will feel that way. Anyway, I hope not.”
Sweetie glared at him. If he didn’t get to the point soon, that family feeling she had could be in serious jeopardy.
“Terry called to tell me that he’s located Bernie.”
A small bomb exploding in the middle of Sweetie’s kitchen table couldn’t have produced more shocked expressions.
“Bernie who?” Dad asked.
“Bernice Goodrich,” I said quickly. “Sam’s mother.”
“Oh my,” Mom said breathlessly.
I grabbed Sam’s arm. His face had gone white.
“Where is she?” Sweetie asked.
“She’s in a hospital in Wyoming. She’s been there over a month,” Pat said.
“Is—is she all right?” Sam choked out.
Pat shook his head. “No, not really. She’s pretty sick. Hepatitis.” He gazed into his son’s eyes. “But she’s clean. I wish I could tell you more about her condition, unfortunately I just don’t know. I called the hospital, but they wouldn’t tell me anything since I’m not family.”
“Well, I’m sure as shootin’ family,” Sweetie barked, standing to her feet. “You give me the number of this place, Pat. I’ll call them right now.”
He reached for his wallet, pulled it out of his pocket, and opened it. Then he removed a folded piece of paper and handed it to Sweetie. “That’s it. Sure would appreciate it if you’d let me know how she is.”
Sweetie took the paper from his hand and stared at it for a moment. Then she came around the table to where Pat sat. She put her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll make sure you know all about how Bernie’s doin’, Pat. Thank you for bringin’ her back to me. I’ll never forget it. Never.” She patted his shoulder then left the room. Sam sat silently. He looked stunned.
“How do you feel about this, Sam?” my father asked.
“I—I don’t know,” he said softly. “To be honest, I never thought I’d hear from my mother again.”
Pat stood up. “I should have given you this before,” he said to Sam. “Just wasn’t sure you’d want it. But now I think you should have it.” He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled something out. “It’s Bernie’s letter. The one she sent me when she told me about you.” He held it out toward Sam who only stared at it. “She writes about you, son. About how much she loves you and how she only left you because she was afraid of ruining your life. Maybe she made the wrong choice, but she made it out of love. I think if you’ll read this, you might understand her a little better.”
Sam’s gaze seemed locked on the letter, but he still didn’t reach for it. I was about to grab it for him, when he suddenly took the folded paper from Pat’s hand. “I can’t promise I’ll read it right away, but I will when I’m ready.” His own eyes sought his father’s. “Guess I’m learning that forgiveness and understanding brings peace. Holding a grudge only causes pain.” Sam and Pat stared at each other for several seconds. Then Sam said, “Thanks … Dad.”
Pat hung his head, nodded quickly, and mumbled something about having to get home. For just a second I thought about following him, but then I realized the tough lawman needed to be alone. Sam and I heard the front door close.
“Good for you,” I said.
“You know what?” Sam said, sliding the letter into the pocket of his slacks. “It is good for me. I’ve wanted to call someone ‘dad’ my whole life. It feels absolutely fantastic.” His smile lit up his face.
“I think Pat feels just about as good as you do.”
“I hope so.” Sam yawned and stretched his arms behind his head. “I could use some coffee. How about you?”
“Sounds good.”
Mom and Dad begged off, deciding to go home. Dad’s leg was bothering him and they were both tired. I kissed them good-bye and promised to let them know about Bernie. It was hard to watch them leave without me. Frankly, I was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and fall into bed. But even more than I wanted sleep, I needed to know what Sweetie found out about her sister. We’d just poured our coffee when Sweetie came into the kitchen.
“I called the hospital and told ‘em who I was. They’re gonna check with Bernie before they’ll tell me anything.”
“Will she let them speak to you?” I asked.
Sweetie sighed deeply. “Land sakes, I hope so. Wish I could predict what Bernie will do, but I just can’t. All we can do is sit and wait.”
Sam got up and poured Sweetie a cup of coffee. We all sat at the table until the phone finally rang. Sweetie jumped up and ans
wered it. She was silent for quite some time, listening to whoever was on the other end. Finally she said, “Tell her I said not to worry. I’ll take care of it. I’ll call her back tomorrow. You tell her that, hear me?” Seemingly satisfied with the answer, she said good-bye and hung up. Sam and I stared at her expectantly as she came back to the table and sat down.
“Well, she’s sick, but there’s hope. She’s gonna need a liver transplant. She’s on a list, and her chances look okay. Nothing for certain, but if she can last long enough for a liver to become available, she might actually pull through.”
Sam let out a deep breath. “Can we talk to her?”
His aunt stared at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she smiled at both of us. “She’ll certainly be talkin’ to me, son. I’m goin’ up there to be with her until she’s well.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. “What do you mean? You can’t leave.”
Sweetie reached over and took his hand. Then she grasped mine. “You two have each other now. Bernie has no one.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Lord knows I love you both so much it hurts, but you don’t need me no more.”
Sam started to say something, but she hushed him.
“When you was a little boy, you needed me real bad,” Sweetie said gently. “And I loved bringing you up. I loved every single moment of it. But now you got Gracie.” She moved our hands together and took hers away. “You gotta be able to see this as clearly as I do. My sister is all alone, and you both could use some time together without someone else hangin’ around. It’s the perfect solution.” She chuckled. “Don’t be thinkin’ you’re gettin’ rid of me though, Sam Goodrich. You have my word. If Bernie gets better, I’ll bring us both back here.” She rubbed her eyes. “And if she don’t, well I’ll come back alone. But either way, I’ll come home one of these days.”
“I can’t imagine living here without you,” Sam said in a choked voice.
“I know,” his aunt said softly. “But this is my choice, son. And I need you to support me.”
Sam didn’t speak, but he nodded slowly. At Sweetie’s suggestion, we all went outside and sat on the porch, rocking quietly until the sun went down and the air cooled. No one said it, but we all realized it would be the last time the three of us would be alone together for a long, long time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Saturday was the most wonderful day of my life, but it rushed past me like a mighty wind that sweeps in and out so quickly you’re not sure it was ever really there. A few memories will always stay burned into my memory, though. Sam, standing at the front of the church in his black suit. As I walked down the aisle, I was certain he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire life. My mother told me once that in her eyes, my father outshone every man she’d ever met. As the years went by, she never changed her opinion. At the time, I couldn’t understand why she didn’t seem to notice his wrinkles, the extra skin under his chin, or the way his stomach got a little larger every year. But on Saturday, I understood it completely. I knew that the rest of my life, I would see Sam standing there, his sun-bleached hair combed neatly into place, his incredible gray eyes looking at me beneath dark lashes, his expression one I will always remember. He told me after the ceremony that he was so overcome by my beauty he could barely breathe.
And I will always recall my mother’s face when she saw me wearing her blue dress, a white-lace shawl around my shoulders, and a bouquet of red carnations, yellow dandelions, and purple irises in my arms. My white dress was packed away in a trunk, waiting for the day my daughter would decide between it … or a plain blue dress that carried more meaning than beauty.
A sea of faces passed before us that day. My mother and father, Pat, Ida, Gabe, Sarah and John, Sweetie, Emily and Abel. Each face precious to me. Every person part of a large, extended family. And of course, Hannah. Although we didn’t get much time to speak, she hugged me tightly and whispered “Thank you,” into my ear.
There was great food, courtesy of Hector and Carmen, and wonderful gifts given by all the people who love us. Our reception overflowed with laughter and the joy of the Lord. But little by little, people drifted away. Bill Eberly drove Sweetie to the airport after the reception. It was hard to see her go, but Sam and I both knew she had made the right choice.
As quickly as the whirlwind of excitement that weddings bring reached its peak, it was over. My mother and father went home to the house that had sheltered the Temple family for over fifty years. Sam and I drove home to the big red house, our truck stuffed full of gifts we’d find places for later. Although everything we’d been given blessed us, my grandmother’s quilt and Hannah’s painting would stay at the top of the list.
We changed clothes and went out to sit on the porch. We were finally alone. Buddy curled up at my feet, and Snickle lay down on Sam’s lap. The third rocking chair sat empty, and Sweetie’s absence was deeply felt. We pulled our rocking chairs together and held hands until the sun went down.
Finally Sam said, “I think it’s time to go inside, Mrs. Goodrich.”
“I agree.” I turned to look into the stormy gray eyes of the man I would spend the rest of my life with. “Hey Sam, why don’t cannibals eat clowns?”
He chuckled softly. “I have no idea. Why don’t cannibals eat clowns?”
“Because they taste funny.”
Sam’s warm laughter drifted into the night air. “Is this what I can look forward to for the next fifty years?”
I squeezed his hand. “You got it, bub.”
He leaned over and kissed me gently, and then he stood up. “I can hardly wait.”
I let go of his hand. “Hey, give me just a minute alone, okay?”
He smiled. “Just don’t take too long.”
“I won’t.”
He called Buddy and Snickle, ushering them both into the house. When the door shut behind him, I looked up into a sky full of glittering stars. A verse from the eighth Psalm popped into my mind. When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is mankind that you are mindful of them, human beings that you care for them? Tearfully, I whispered a prayer of thanks to the One who had led me to Harmony, Kansas, so He could reveal His plan for me—a plan far beyond anything I could have ever dreamed. I rocked for a while in the soft, summer air, wrapped in His love. Then I got up and opened the front door of the house I’d loved from the first moment I’d seen it, and went inside, ready to begin a brand-new, wonderful adventure.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
NANCY MEHL lives in Wichita, Kansas, with her husband, Norman, and her rambunctious puggle, Watson. She’s authored eleven books and is currently at work on her newest series. All of Nancy’s novels have an added touch—something for your spirit as well as your soul. You can find out more about Nancy by visiting her website at: www.nancymehl.com.
OTHER BOOKS BY NANCY MEHL
THE HARMONY SERIES
Simple Secrets
Simple Deceit
HOMETOWN MYSTERIES
Missing Mabel
Blown Away
